


Echo Of Yesterday, Shadow Of Tomorrow

by tarrysmith



Series: William/Magnus [2]
Category: Tom Hiddleston characters
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarrysmith/pseuds/tarrysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus meets someone new.  Can she help him get over a woman who’s been dead for over a hundred years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the sequel to the Magnus part of Sesquicentennial. I couldn’t leave poor Magnus pining over Peggy, and I’ve figured out how to fix it! And this is it! Not sure how many chapters, probably not that many, but I’m making this up as I go along! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> for my Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me and winchester87

Chapter 1

Magnus ran his hand over his hair. “I have no personal life,“ he said flatly.

Kurt shook his head, pursing his lips. “And that can’t continue, Magnus. I could fire you, but I can’t afford to lose a good detective, and I really don’t want to lose track of you. I care about you, Magnus. I want you to try to get a grip. I want you to return to the living. I’ll help you in any way I can, but you have to be willing to let me in.”

Magnus licked his lips and looked gratefully at Kurt. “William told me how you helped him. I think I’ve never really appreciated how much you take care of us all. I will try to rejoin the living, Kurt,” he said sincerely. “I will really try.”

 

But it was a lot easier said than done, Magnus thought to himself. He’d been alone and solemn for so long, he didn’t know how to pull himself out of it. What did other people do? They went to bars, they went to parties, they had hobbies, interests. Magnus loathed parties, and he didn’t think bars were a very good idea for police officers. Hobbies: hmm, well, he played the piano. He’d managed to keep that a secret, but he’d certainly shared it with Peggy. He’d shared a lot of things with Peggy. He’d bared his soul to her. But she had died in 1910; he’d looked it up. William in 1909, and Peggy a year later. At least she hadn’t had to live long without her beloved William, Magnus thought. She would have hated it. They’d had four children, and that was all Magnus had been able to learn. And he realized he was obsessed , and he couldn’t help it, and just didn’t care.

He forced his mind back to the task at hand. So, hobbies and interests. Piano. He guessed maybe he liked to fish. Maybe he should take a dance class. He liked art. Driving to work, he passed a billboard advertising an exhibition at a local art museum. He was stunned when he saw the name Cranford as he passed the sign. Promising himself to check it out later, he continued on his way to work.

“How are you, Magnus?” Kurt asked him when he got to the office that morning.

“It’s slow, Kurt,” Magnus replied, running a hand through his curly, blond hair. ”I’m just at a loss. I’m trying, but I just don’t know what to do. I’m thinking of taking a dance class…”

“That would be good!” Kurt said encouragingly.

“And there’s an exhibition at the art museum I’m thinking of going to,” Magnus said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“That would be good, too!” Kurt reached out and squeezed Magnus’ shoulder. “At least you’ve thought about it,” he said, sounding pleased. “That’s a great start!”

Later, when he was on break, Magnus pulled up the art museum’s website. When he clicked on the ”Featured Shows” tab, he gasped out loud. What were the chances? The main featured show was “Cranford: A Portrait of the Life,” featuring the art of M.M. Buxton. Magnus only hesitated for a moment before clicking on the button to buy a ticket. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and got his credit card out, and five minutes later, his ticket was sitting on the printer. And suddenly, he had his next day off all planned out.

But we was also going to do something else for himself, a little sooner. He enjoyed the small keyboard he had at his apartment, but a real piano would be a joy to play again, like he had in Cranford. So, after work, instead of going straight home, he first headed to the mall. Tucked away in one of the small corridors was a grand piano. For years, every time he’d visited that mall, Magnus wondered if you had to do anything special to be able to play that piano, and today he was going to find out. Making his way to the administrative office, he asked to speak with the manager, and as it was slow, and almost closing time, he was shown right in.

“What can I do for you?” the mall manager, a short, rotund, jovial man, asked.

“Hello, my name is Magnus Martinsson,” he said, shaking hands with the manager, whose name was Lars Eriksson. “I’m a detective with the Ystad police.”

“Oh, is there a problem?” Lars asked I looking worried.

“Oh, sorry, no,” Magnus said apologetically. “Nothing like that. This doesn’t have anything to do with my job. I just wanted you to know that I’m a trustworthy person. That’s the only reason I mention it.”

“Well, then,” said Lars, smiling. “What can I do for you, Detective Martinsson?”

“It’s about the grand piano,” Magnus began. “I can’t afford such a wonderful instrument, and, even if I could, there’s no room in my apartment for such a thing.”

“And?” Lars said encouragingly.

Magnus bit his bottom lip. “Well, l wondered if I might play upon it from time to time. It’s not out in the main corridors. I would try not to disturb anyone.”

“That instrument languishes away for want of a performer!” Lars said. “I would be honored if you would feel free to play it anytime the mall is open!”

“Thank you, Mr. Eriksson!” Magnus said gratefully, shaking his hand. “I will be coming here a lot!” And with that, Magnus went home for the day.

Three days later, he stood on the steps of the art gallery, looking up at the poster for the Cranford exhibition. M.M. Buxton: the name couldn’t be a coincidence. The artist had to be family to William and Peggy Buxton. Magnus felt his stomach drop at the thought of Peggy. He shouldn’t be doing this to himself. He should be trying to get over her. He opened the door and stepped inside. As he handed his ticket to the greeter, he was handed a program booklet and a small mp3 player with headphones. “There’s a recorded, self-guided tour commentary on there, sir,” he was told. “Just press the ‘on’ button and follow the instructions.” Thanking the greeter, Magnus stepped out of the way and thumbed open the program.

“About the artist:” he read. “M. M. Buxton was the eldest of four children born to William and Peggy Buxton. Raised in Cranford, UK, upon reaching adulthood, he immigrated to Ystad, Sweden, and spent most of his adult life there before returning to Cranford five years before his death in 1939. His many portraits of people and events bring to life the rural village of his birth circa the mid-1850s.”

William. And Peggy. This artist was their oldest son. And he’d lived his adult life in Ystad. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Magnus followed the signs to the proper section of the museum, then put in the headphones and started the tour.

The voice being funneled into his ears was musical, lilting – and very familiar. Magnus figured it must be a famous actress. He found the first painting and gazed on the Cranford town square. Suddenly, he had a fond memory of standing there, Peggy on his arm, conversing with Miss Matty… Coming here was definitely a mistake. He was supposed to be trying to move on from Peggy! But, he knew he had to see the rest of the paintings. The artist was clearly a genius, and the voice of the narrator was soothing in his ear, as she spoke of places and people Magnus had been with less than 6 months ago…

As he slowly walked the corridors, there were more and more paintings, and each one invoked a memory. There was Mr. and Mrs. Johnson outside their shop, Mrs. Pole, young Harry and Miss Galindo, Mrs. Forrester and Bessie the cow, William’s Engineering office, Captain and Mrs. Brown. So many memories. Magnus felt tears well up, and he blinked them back. Finally, he reached the end of the corridor. Only three more portraits. They were arranged in a triangle pattern, a beautiful family grouping over two single portraits placed side by side. The Buxtons. The family group showed William and Peggy surrounded by three tall teenaged boys and a teenaged girl. Magnus wondered which one was the artist. The single portrait on the bottom left could have been of Magnus himself, he looked so much like the subject. Magnus had met him once – he was the artist’s father, William.

The single portrait on the bottom right was a young blond woman with sturdy features, pretty, with a gentle smile. This was the artist’s mother, Peggy Buxton.

The love of Magnus’ life. The tears in Magnus’ eyes spilled over and rolled down his cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey,so glad so many folks are following this story! I promise I’m gonna make Magnus happy! But he’ll have to suffer just a little bit before he’s there! Anyway, please let me know what you think! And, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin

Chapter 2

Magnus managed to pull himself together, but it was difficult. Kurt was constantly watching him, and although he didn’t say anything, Magnus was aware that the older man had a pretty good handle on where he was coming from. Kurt had known his own share of heartache, so his patience was kicked into high gear, but Magnus knew that there was a deadline — Kurt wouldn’t be patient forever.  
Magnus began playing the grand piano at the mall, every evening on his way home from work. At first, he played familiar things, pieces he’d had in his repertoire for years; but eventually he felt comfortable enough to bring sheet music and begin to learn some new pieces. And he challenged himself, learning progressively harder and harder works. He mostly stuck with Russian composers, but did a little Debussy and Ravel as well. He hoped to eventually learn the Tchaikovsky concerto #1, but knew he wasn’t ready for that yet. However, by the end of two weeks, there were half a dozen people who had discovered that he would be there, and he usually had a small audience, which bothered him at first, but he soon got used to it, and actually came to look forward to it. When they started asking for requests, Magnus actually laughed out loud. However, once he was done playing, he would pack up his music and return once again to his lonely, empty apartment.

The Cranford show at the art museum haunted him. He resisted for over a week, but finally, he couldn’t help it. He woke up from a daze to find himself standing in front of the museum building, and resignedly, he went in and bought a ticket, accepting the mp3 player and headphones from the greeter perfunctorily, putting the headphones on and allowing the familiar-but can’t-quite-place-it voice to resonate in his ears.

He wandered the corridor bemusedly, glancing at the paintings, hardly seeing them, drawn inexorably towards those final three portraits, that final ONE. Almost there… he reached the end of the corridor where that portrait was hanging. And froze.

“Peggy,” her whispered, slowly walking towards her.

The woman standing there whirled around. “Oh, you startled me,” she said, in that voice he now recognized from the mp3 player.

“Peggy,” he said, a little louder, reaching out a hand towards her, continuing to approach her.

“No, sorry, Peggy’s my cousin. I’m Margaret Buxton, l go by Gretti, but I don’t look anything like Peggy?” she said curiously, looking at him with her head tilted to the side.

“No,” he said, gesturing towards the portrait. “I meant…” For she looked just like his Peggy: a mass of long, blond hair, caught up in a messy knot, sparkling green eyes, sturdily built.

“Oh, you mean old Peggy,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Yes, I’m told I do resemble her quite closely!” She peered at him, then glanced back at the portrait of William. “But what about you, huh?” she said, tipping her head towards the portraits. “You sure took a lot like old William. Aren’t we a pair? We could have posed for these portraits!”

Magnus felt himself smile, and he brought his hand to his lips, still a little dazed. “So, are you related, then?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she said, nodding. “Peggy and William were my great-great- four greats, I think, grandparents!”

“And the artist, who did the paintings?” Magnus asked curiously.

“I’m descended from him, too,” she said brightly, indicating the tallest of the youths in the family portrait. “Old Magnus…”

Magnus whipped his head to look at her, gasping audibly. “Magnus?”

“That’s his name,” she said, looking at the portrait fondly. “M. M. Buxton. Magnus Martinsson Buxton.”

Magnus didn’t hardly dare to breathe. “Really?” he whispered. “When was he born?”

“1847,” Gretti replied, looking at him closely. “Are you OK?”

He turned to her, smiling. He had been there in 1845, so there was no way… Relieved, he said, “Yes I’m fine. Tell me more about your family.” He turned back towards the family portrait. He pointed to another of the sons. “Who’s this?”

She laughed; Magnus thought it sounded like music. “That’s the bad boy of the group,” she said, smirking. “I think he’s my favorite. He stowed away to America before he was 20. That branch of the family still lives there, in Ohio. Kurt Wallander Buxton,” she said, and he gasped. She looked at him sharply and said, “Funny name, huh?”

She continued to eye him, but eventually turned back to the portrait, and pointed to the remaining boy. “This is William Henry, junior,” and then, pointing to the girl, she said “and Margaret Anne, named after the original Peggy. The whole family is still obsessed with these names! I’m Margaret Ann as well, and I have brothers named Magnus and Kurt; and cousins named Magnus and Kurt, too, and a cousin William, and a cousin Peggy!”

Magnus wasn’t sure what to say. How on earth do you tell a woman that you’ve just met, a woman who looks like your long-dead love, that her great-great-great grandfather, with his strange name, was actually named after you? And another brother was actually named after your boss? (Magnus was actually looking forward to telling that to Kurt, however…)

“A couple of quite odd names,” he finally settled for, feeling lame.

“Yes, aren’t they?” she agreed. “There’s a whole family legend about it, actually.”

“I would love to hear about that,” Magnus said eagerly, brows raised. “Perhaps you could tell me about it over dinner?”

“I think not, mister… ?” she said.

“Ma – Max,” he said, making a split-second decision to not give her his real name, thinking she wouldn’t believe him, anyway. “Max, uh, Martin.”

“Well, Mr. Martin,” she said coyly, “I don’t have dinner with men I’ve just met.”

Magnus felt his heart sink. He refused to think that he had found this beautiful woman, the very image of his long-lost love, and that now he might lose her before he even got a chance to get to know her. But she made him feel better right away, when she looked at him from under her lashes and said, “I’m live-leading a tour of the exhibition on Saturday, at 1:30. If you come back then, maybe we can go out afterward, if I think I can trust you…”

“I am very trustworthy,” Magnus said earnestly. “I’m a de- well, I’m very trustworthy, really.”

“I’m sure you are,” Gretti said, chuckling. ”Come back on Saturday. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Martin.” She put out her hand, and Magnus took it, noting how soft her skin was.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” Magnus said. “It was nice to meet you, too,”

She turned back to look at him over her shoulder as she made her way out of the exhibit. Magnus just stood there watching her, a goofy, bemused smile on his face.

A couple of days later, Gretti was sitting at her desk in the reception area of a large law firm, when Alwyn, one of the secretaries, approached her desk. “Hey, Grett,” she said, “a couple of us are getting together after work to go to the mall. Would you like to go with us?”

“Shopping?” Gretti asked, brows lowered. “Um, not quite my scene…”

“No, not shopping!” Alwyn said mischievously. “Have you ever noticed that big old piano tucked down that dead-end corridor?”

“Uh, yeah, now that you mention it,” Gretti said curiously. “And?”

“Well, apparently there’s this virtuoso piano player who practices there most nights,” Alwyn said, waggling her brows up and down. “Debbie says he’s hotter than sin! And I guess he plays well, too,” she said as an afterthought. “Mostly classical stuff, I guess, but at the end, he takes requests. Apparently, it’s quite a show!”

“Um, OK,” Gretti agreed. She was having problems dealing with her free time lately. Ever since meeting the somehow mysterious Max Martin, the strange man she’d met at the art museum, the man who so inexplicably and closely resembled her great-great-great-great grandfather, William, that it wasn’t even funny. She couldn’t seem to get the man out of her head, which just wasn’t like her. It was true, she hadn’t been interested in a man since Simon had so unceremoniously dumped her three months ago, but somehow, this Max Martin had intrigued her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

So maybe agreeing to go to the mall with her friends was a good idea. “I’ll see you after work,” she said now to Alwyn. Don’t forget to stop by and get me.”

A few hours later, Alwyn, Debbie, and three other girls stopped by Gretti’s desk. Gretti took the bus to work, so when they all separated to go to their separate cars, Gretti went with Alwyn and Debbie.

“Wait til you see this guy,” Debbie was saying. “OMG, he’s to die for! So tall, and handsome! He has these big hands with really long fingers! When he plays, it looks like he’s practically making love to the piano! Mmmmm! Oh, and he plays really well, too!”

“It sounds really – interesting,” Gretti said with a smirk, one brow raised. “I’m really looking forward to it. Let’s go!”

The drive to the mall was short, and the women all parked and made their way down the corridor to where the piano was. The mall administration had set up a small set of bleachers, Magnus being so popular, he was nightly attracting quite a crowd. He wasn’t there yet, and the girls took a seat and sat with varying degrees of anticipation, waiting. Not too much later, a tall, thin man with fluffy blond curls and piercing blue eyes, approached the piano, set down a day pack, sat down, and began to play.

Gretti just looked at him, her mouth open. It was Max, her mysterious man from the museum.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who’s reading this. I’m trying to make Magnus happier with each chapter! I’ve tried to find photos of Magnus smiling, but they almost don’t exist! The man is very dour! Well, I intend to make him happy…!
> 
> Let me know if you like it, and as always, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin, and a special tag for kissimmmeme, who asked me to post this!

Chapter 3

Magnus ignored the crowd on the bleachers, after noticing that there were a lot of people there tonight. He got his sheet music out of his bag, then sat down at the instrument, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a few moments, he raised his hands, placed them on the keyboard, and began to play. He started with easy, familiar pieces as a warm up, Clair de Lune by Debussy, Fur Elise, Moonlight Sonata; then transitioned to gradually harder works. Finally, he opened his eyes, focusing on the piece he was currently working on, Borodin’s Scherzo. As he worked it, he felt that it was coming along nicely.  
Finally, he felt ready to tackle the Tchaikovsky concerto #I, something he’d wanted to do for a long time. It was difficult without the orchestra, but he could hear it in his head, and he played joyfully. He tried not to let the fact distract him, but he was aware that the crowd couldn’t hear it, and they began to fidget, which annoyed Magnus, and a frown of irritation crossed his face before he quashed it. He was here to practice, not perform, but he soon decided it would probably be better if he moved onto different music.

He wasn’t sure what prompted him to do it, but something made him begin the pieces he had played for Peggy, not so long ago is his when, but over a century ago in hers. He hadn’t played them since he had played them for her, but tonight, they flowed from his fingers. Mussorgsky’s Great Gate of Kiev from the Pictures At An Exhibition, seguing directly into the Rachmaninoff Prelude in C# Minor. Suddenly, he was back there, playing them for Peggy, and he didn’t notice when a tear ran down his cheek.

Gretti was entranced. Max was clearly a concert pianist. But Debbie hadn’t been kidding when she’d described his playing as “making love to the piano.” There was something so sensual about it: the bowed head and closed eyes, his long, sensitive fingers flying over the keys, almost caressing during the slower sections. She recognized it when he started working on the Tchaikovsky, and, like him, she could hear the orchestra backing him in her head, and she closed her eyes and lost herself in the music.

When he began the Mussorgsky, her eyes flew open. This piece was part of her family legend, and she watched as he played it lovingly, transitioning so seamlessly into the Rachmaninoff Prelude that she felt her breath catch. Surely this was an incredible coincidence, that he would play the very pieces that legend said that Magnus had played for Peggy, in the exact same way. She felt her stomach drop when she noticed he was crying.

The spell was broken when someone in the crowd called out the first request. Magnus made a habit to never acknowledge his audience; he would just automatically begin playing the song. So far, he’d never been stumped, and he played everything the crowd called out to him, without saying anything and without looking at them. But, he had to work tomorrow, so after about forty-five minutes, he packed up his music, closed the cover over the keyboard, stood up, and without a backward glance, walked away.

Gretti didn’t know why, she just knew she couldn’t let the man she knew as Max leave without saying something to him. She rose to follow him, calling out to him.

“Gretts, where are you going?” Alwyn asked her as she started to follow after him.

“I have to talk to him!” Gretti said determinedly. “I can take the metro home. You go on without me.”

“Gretts,” Alwyn called after her, but she was already halfway down the corridor. Alwyn shrugged, and followed Debbie out.

Magnus heard someone calling for Max, and he didn’t think too much about it, except that the voice was familiar, musical, and persistent. He finally stopped and turned, to see Gretti running towards him. Surprised, he stood waiting for her, and when she reached him, she grabbed his hand, looking up into his face. “Oh, Max, Mr. Martin, that was absolutely wonderful! Are you on tour? Surely you’re a professional!”

Magnus blinked at her. His first reaction was disbelief. The sensation of her hand on his was electrifying, and he held his breath, but her words were ludicrous, and finally, he answered her. “Uh, no, I’m not. No, not at all,” he said, allowing his amusement to show. “I’m not that good. I have a day job, this is just a hobby. I can’t afford an instrument as fine as the one here at the mall, and my apartment isn’t big enough, either. The mall manager is kind enough to let me practice here, so I come most evenings after work.”

Gretti looked at him disbelievingly. “But, it was so wonderful! And the pieces you played… “

“I stuck with mostly my favorites tonight,” he admitted quietly, running a hand through his curls.

Gretti wrestled with herself. She didn’t know this man, but somehow, he was intriguing to her. She felt that she didn’t want to let him go yet. Coming to a decision, she squeezed his hand (which she was embarrassed to realize that she was still holding!) and asked, “Have you eaten? Would you like to get some dinner?”

Magnus could hardly believe it, she was asking him out, and he felt his mouth twitch into a quirky grin. “No, I’ve not eaten. Yes, I’d love to get some dinner with you.” And he squeezed her hand back.

Now that he had agreed to get dinner with her, Gretti was embarrassed to remember that she didn’t even have a car. “Um, Mr. Martin, I’m sorry, but I’ve come here with some friends. I don’t have a car, or anything.”

Magnus was just so happy that she wanted to spend time with him that he laughed, and turning back around said, “Let’s grab something at the food court, and then l can take you home, if you think I’m trustworthy.“ He licked his upper lip, not daring to look at her.

Gretti actually felt gratitude for his suggestion. ”That would be great,” she said, relieved.

They got their food, found a table that was a little isolated, and they sat across from each other, Magnus resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “So, you enjoyed my practicing?” he asked, brows raised.

“I think you’re wonderful,” she said truthfully. “Some of my friends from work asked me to come. They said there was this hot guy who played the piano at the mall, and that he was really good! They weren’t kidding!”

Magnus licked his upper lip. “You think I’m hot?” he asked her, not quite believing she’d said it.

Gretti blushed. “Well, there’s that…” she said. “But, I do think you’re really good. And honestly, the Mussorgsky and the Rachmaninoff… They’re part of that family legend I was telling you about.” She eyed him speculatively. “Just what are the odds that you would play those two pieces, back to back, like you just did? It’s such a coincidence.”

Magnus looked away, rubbing his hand through his curls. “Is it?” he said.

“Now I really want to tell you my family legend, but l have to work tomorrow, and I’m assuming you do, too.” He nodded, and she looked at him searchingly. “Who are you, Max Martin?”

Magnus looked away for a moment, then forced himself to meet her eyes. “Maybe I have my own story that I’d like to tell you,” he said cryptically.

She looked at him, a little dazed. “Will you come to the exhibition on Saturday?” she asked, pleading a little. “Please? We could go somewhere afterward and talk. Somehow, I feel like there’s something going on here.”

“Yes, to everything,” Magnus said and his heart skipped a beat. She was more right than she knew.

The conversation fizzled after that. Gretti felt that (correctly, of course) Magnus was hiding something. Magnus knew that he could tell her more about her family than she could possibly know. And, she intrigued him. She looked like his Peggy, but she was obviously a different person, and he realized that he liked her, and that he wanted a chance to get to know her better. But he was really afraid that he would scare her off. He knew that he would have to come clean to her, but he also knew that now was not the time.

“So, are you ready to go?” he asked, brows raised.

She smiled wistfully at him. “I guess I am,” she said reluctantly.

Magnus rose and held out his hand to her. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then, taking his hand, allowed him to pull her to her feet. Magnus gave her a little half-smile, then led her out of the mall and to his car, grateful that it was non-descript and gave nothing away. He opened her door and helped her in, then got in behind the wheel. “Where to?” he asked.

Gretti gave him directions, then watched him drive. He did it in the way that she’d observed him do everything, with quiet confidence. When they got to her house, she turned and looked at him in the dim light from the streetlight. “Now you know where I live,” she said teasing “I‘m safe, aren’t I?”

Magnus surprised himself by actually chuckling. “You’re safer than you know,” he said with a gentle smile.

He walked her to her door, then held out his hand. She looked at it for a moment before taking it, and pulling herself closer to him, she rose on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Good night, Max Martin. I’ll see you on Saturday. 1:30.”

He squeezed her hand. “Goodnight, Gretti,” he said. “I’ll be there.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, let me know what you think! I love when folks tell me they like it! So much love for Sesquicentennial today, and this one too! Thanks, everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin, kissimmmeme, valkyrie55

Chapter 4

Magnus had to work on Saturday, but he wasn’t particularly worried. He figured that when he told Kurt why he wanted the afternoon off, that it wouldn’t be a problem. So on Friday, he went to arrange it.  
“Hey, Kurt, can l talk to you?” he asked, knocking on the door frame to Kurt’s office.

“Of course, Magnus, come on in,” Kurt said, looking at him with raised brows. “What can I do for you?”

“Kurt, I’ve met someone,” Magnus said with quiet excitement. “She’s asked me to go to an exhibition at the art museum, but it‘s tomorrow at 1:30, and I’m scheduled to work. I wondered if I might have the afternoon off.”

Kurt looked delighted. ”Damn straight,” he said with a huge grin. “You can leave at lunchtime. I’ll cover for you myself if I have to!”

Magnus smiled his little half smile. “Thanks, Kurt, I really appreciate it. We’re going to tour the exhibition and then have an early supper. I’m pretty excited.”

“What’s her name?” Kurt asked, genuinely interested. ”How did you meet her?”

Magnus ran a hand through his curls. “Not very many people know this,“ he said, shyly, “but I play the piano. I’ve been practicing on the concert grand at the mall. I, uh, l attract an audience. The mall even put up bleachers. Gretti, that’s my girl’s name, she came to watch me play.” Magnus didn’t hesitate at the little fib by omission. After all, what he was saying was the truth, if maybe pushing it a little, calling her his girl (and it gave him a little thrill to say that!), and it didn’t seem necessary to complicate the story by mentioning that she was Peggy Buxton’s distant descendant, who happened to look just like her.

“Well, that’s great, Magnus,” Kurt said kindly, “Both your playing and your meeting a girl. I’m glad you’re finally moving on. I hope you’ll have a great time tomorrow.”

“Me, too,” Magnus said. ”Thanks, Kurt.” And smiling, he went back to work.

Magnus arrived at the art museum half an hour early, so he wandered around, looking at some of the other artwork. He‘d had a good morning at work, and when he’d left, Kurt had given him a big smile, so Magnus felt relaxed and happy that afternoon. As it got closer to 1:30, he got more and more antsy, and he decided to just make his way over to where the tour would start, and stop pretending that he wasn’t excited to see Gretti again.

There was already a small crowd beginning to gather, so Magnus took his place towards the back of the group, and it wasn’t long before he saw Gretti coming towards them from the direction of the main lobby. She was beautiful, and Magnus felt his breath catch. He saw her scan the crowd, and she smiled when she spotted him, giving him a tiny head nod as their eyes met.

Gretti wasn’t sure what to call the feelings she felt when she spotted ‘Max’ standing at the back of the group. Anticipation, excitement, elation — all mixed up together in a rather potent rush of feeling that flowed over her. Suddenly, she just wanted this tour over so that she could be alone with him, touch him, hold his talented hands, his sensitive fingers… Gretti sucked in a breath, getting herself under control. She hardly even knew him! And he was hiding something, she was sure of it. She didn’t know what, she just knew that there was a lot she needed to learn about him, and she was intrigued, and eager to learn it.

It was almost time to begin the tour, so Gretti figured she’d get started. “Hello,” she began, “I’m Margaret Buxton, but you can call me Gretti. We’ll just give it a few more minutes, make sure everyone is here.”

Magnus moved a little closer when she started speaking. Her voice was lyrical, and he wanted to make sure he could hear every word.

After a few minutes, she started the tour is earnest. “So, for those of you who have just joined us, my name is Margaret Buxton; please call me Gretti! Today we will look at some of the paintings of the artist M. M. Buxton, who lived 1847-1939. M.M. was actually my great-great-great grandfather, 3 greats. He was born in Cranford, UK, and it’s these paintings of his birthplace that are the focus of this particular exhibition.”

Magnus moved as close to her as he felt proper; he really wanted to be able to hear her voice, as she spoke about each of the paintings as the group paused in front of them. She spoke with calm confidence, and Magnus smiled to himself. She was lovely, so vivacious, so full of energy and enthusiasm, and he felt himself falling under her spell. She was not his Peggy. His Peggy had never truly been his. But Gretti was sweet, and spunky, and right then, she said something that made him laugh out loud.

And at that precise moment, he stopped, closing his eyes and bowing his head. ‘Good-bye, Peggy,’ he thought to himself. ‘I love you. I will always love you. But you are gone, you are the past, and you were never mine, anyway.’ He drew a deep breath, coming to a decision. ‘Peggy,’ he thought, ’I think that maybe Gretti is my future. And I hope I have your blessing. And William’s.’ He opened his eyes and straightened his spine, and hurried to catch back up with the tour.

Gretti was pointing to one of the paintings and saying, “It was in this parlor here where William and Peggy, the artist’s parents, played this piano. It’s still there to this day.”

Magnus was surprised and pleased that her words, and the painting, didn’t hurt. He caught her eye and smiled, and then he sighed. Looking at her, listening to her, was bringing him so much pleasure. He was excited to spend time with her, almost giddy with anticipation, but he wondered: would she believe what he would tell her? Well, he had proof. And, he didn’t really need to hear her story; he knew it better that she ever possibly could. But, he wanted to hear what she had to say, and he knew he would let her speak first.

As they approached those bittersweet, final three portraits, Magnus braced himself, prepared for the wave of pain he knew seeing images of Peggy would bring him. And was surprised when it didn’t happen. All he felt was a kind of melancholy wistfulness, and he silently sent a little thank you to Peggy and William, as it felt like they were giving him their approval.

Gretti was finishing up talking about the family members, pointing them out in the group portrait, saving M.M. for last. She pointed to him now, and said, ”This is the artist, Magnus Martinsson Buxton. And this concludes the exhibition. If you have any questions, I’ll be here for about fifteen more minutes.”

Magnus hung back as several people asked questions about the paintings, the family, the town. As the crowd gradually dwindled, Magnus got more and excited. He bit his lip as Gretti approached him, a smile on her face.

She took his hand. “So, Mr. Martin, Max, where should we go?” she asked, her head tipped to the side, looking up at him.

He looked down at their clasped hands, then back at her face, a little grin on his mouth. “Do you have a car here?” he asked.

“No, I came on the metro,” she said, grinning.

Magnus was surprised to feel himself grinning back, and he squeezed her hand. Do you want me to take you to my place, or do you want me to come to yours?”

“Max?” she asked, her brows lowered a little.

“Trust me,” he said, running a hand through his hair, the curls ruffling. “We need privacy for the discussion we’re going to have.”

“Um, OK,” she said, biting her lip. She thought for a few minutes. She squeezed his hand again. ”I guess I’ll trust you. Take me home, Max.”

He nodded. “OK,” he said, and led her to his car.

Once Magnus had helped her into the car, she turned to him and asked with a smirk, “Do you remember the way?”

He smiled back at her. “I do,” he said confidently, and started the car. The journey was completed in relative silence, both of them thinking about what they were going to say to each other, and what the outcome of this evening might be.

Gretti looked at Magnus out of the corner of her eye. He was so handsome, and she found herself so attracted to him. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through his curls, or brush her hand along his strong jaw or his sharp cheek bones. She thought that, sometimes, when he looked at her, she might drown in his blue eyes.

Magnus felt Gretti’s eyes upon him, but forced himself to ignore it. There would be time to relax once they got to her apartment. And it was a short trip from the museum. Magnus found a parking place, then went around and opened Gretti’s door for her, then followed her inside.

“Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’m going to get out of these museum clothes. The kitchen’s through there,” she indicated, pointing down a corridor. ”Help yourself to something from the fridge, and I’ll be right out.”

“Thank you,” Magnus said quietly. “Can I bring you anything?”

“I’ll take a Coke, thanks,“ she called from what Magnus assumed was her bedroom. He had to force himself to not imagine what she was doing in there. He got two Cokes out of the refrigerator, then returned to the living room and took a seat on the couch. After only a few minutes, Gretti joined him, wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt, and sat down beside him.

“So,” she said, looking up at him, because even sitting, he was so much taller than she was. “I’m supposed to tell you my family legend.” And silently, he nodded. “And, then you said you have a story to tell me, mysterious Mr. Max Martin.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You go first.” He knew what she should say, but he was so curious to know how the story had morphed over the approximately 165 years since he, Magnus Martinsson, had spent almost three months living the life of William Buxton.

“Legend has it,” Gretti began, ”that in 1845, for about three months or so, my great-four-greats grandfather William Buxton, traded places with a man from right here in Ystad, a police officer named Magnus Martinsson. I think he was from around this time. The details were never really clear. He lived in Cranford, and fooled everyone; they all thought he was William. I guess he looked just like him. Only Peggy, William’s wife, knew who he really was. And he played the piano. The family legend says that he played those very pieces you played the other night, the Mussorgsky, transitioning directly into the Rachmaninoff prelude, just the way you did. Surely that’s not usual, is it? Why did you do it?”

Magnus swallowed, then licked his upper lip. “I always play them that way,” he said truthfully. ”I always have. They just… go together…” He shrugged. “I don’t know…” He ran a hand over his neck.

She just looked at him for a few more minutes, and when it became evident that he wasn’t going to say anything further, she took up the tale again. “Of course, the inevitable happened: Magnus fell in love with Peggy. But she stayed loyal to William. One day, it was just over, and they were switched back. William claimed that he had been living as Magnus. He was really scared, it was far in the future for him, after all. He was afraid to leave Magnus’ apartment, but Magnus’ boss at the police station turned up, worried about Magnus, and for some miraculous reason, he believed William’s story, and helped pass him off as Magnus. He took him to the police station and taught him how to answer the phone, and he even took him out on some crime scene reconstructions. William became somewhat of an amateur detective; he always said it really helped him with some of his engineering research.”

“Answer the phone,” Magnus muttered under his breath, his mouth twitching. Out loud he asked, “What does the legend say of how they got back to their own lives?” He looked at her, his brows raised.

“Now, this is where the story REALLY gets fanciful!” she said, her eyes dancing. “William said — get this, he said that the whole thing was caused by the Norse god of Mischief, Loki. He was apparently toying with them like playthings. So silly!”

Magnus looked at her sharply. “So, you don’t believe it?”

Gretti tried to decipher what Magnus was thinking, but he was impossible to read. She settled for saying, “Who could possibly believe it?”

Magnus didn’t say anything for a minute, then said, “So, the artist, William and Peggy’s son, was named after this detective….?”

“Magnus Martinsson, yes,” Gretti said. “Peggy insisted on the name. She never forgot him. And William claimed to have met him as well, in Loki’s palace, or castle, or whatever.”

“That is quite a story,” Magnus said quietly.

“Isn’t it? The last bit of trivia is that William insisted that they name their second son after the police detective that had befriended him in the future; Kurt Wallander was his name.”

Magnus took a sip of his soda to have something to do. He knew things were about to get extremely intense. “So, is that the end of the family legend?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said simply. She took a deep breath. ”Now, Mr. Max Martin, you have a story to tell me? I know there’s more to you than you’ve told me so far. You’ve been hiding something.”

Magnus bit his lip, nodding. “Yes,” he said. He gave her his signature little half-smile. He looked into her eyes, and licking his top lip, he brought a hand up and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her mouth. Her breath caught at the intimacy of the gesture, and her eyes locked with his. Slowly, she raised a hand to his face, and, mimicking his gesture, stroked his face softly, her lips parted. Magnus slowly leaned towards her, his eyes on her mouth, and with a little wordless cry, she closed the distance and brought her mouth to his. Magnus moaned low in his throat, and his arms came around her and he pulled her into his embrace. Gretti wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to deepen the kiss, but he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. “No,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t…”

She looked at him, incredulous, breathing heavily. “Max, why not?” she whispered disbelievingly.

He gave her a regretful look. “I need to tell you the truth,” he said quietly. “And then, if you still want…” She brought a hand to his chest, rubbing absent-mindedly, enjoying the feeling of his lean, firm muscles under the soft fabric of his shirt. She took his hand, settling herself on the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. Spill.”

Magnus surprised himself by actually chuckling. “Well, to start with,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then gave it to her. She took it from him with a questioning look, and he chuckled again. “My name isn’t Max Martin.”

“It’s not?” she asked, one brow raised.

“No,” he said, squeezing her hand. “My name is… Magnus Martinsson.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I think Magnus is getting there! And, this story is winding down! I hope you all like this chapter! I did just want to acknowledge and thank you all for not taking me to task over making Wallander the boss; it was just easier to have him be in charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my usual Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin, kissimmmeme, valkyrie55

Chapter 5

Gretti‘s mouth dropped open, and she stared, shaking her head a little. “Magnus?” she whispered. “You’re… Magnus?”

He nodded. “Open that,” he said quietly, gesturing towards his wallet, that she was still holding. “My police I.D. is on top.”  
Of course, he was right, his police I.D. was right on top, and she glanced down at it. Magnus Martinsson, it said, with his picture. It was him. “I could have shortened our discussion a lot, just by telling you who l am,” he said apologetically, “but I wanted to hear what you had to say. I wanted to know how accurate the story was being told after all these years.”

“How’d I do?” she asked dazedly. “Did I get it right?”

He ran his hand through his curls and squeezed her hand, which he was happy to still be holding. “Surprisingly, you have it very right,“ he said, sounding impressed. “I would have expected it to be all messed up by now.”

“But, Ma-Magnus, it’s all so incredible. I was never sure if I even believed in it in the first place, and now you’re telling me it was all real!” She pulled her hand away, stood up, and began pacing. “Tell me, Magnus,” she said curiously, frowning a little. “Tell me your version. Tell it to me now like I don’t know it. I want to hear it in your own words.”

“Come sit down first, and I will,” he said, looking at her with an odd expression, holding a hand out to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her back beside him on the couch. He reached out and cupped her face in one hand. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

She smiled, a little wistfully. “I think I want that, too. But I need you to talk to me first.”

Magnus took a deep breath, thinking of what he wanted to say and how to say it. He focused himself, and began. “I’m going to tell you the story backward,” Magnus said. “Or, rather from the middle out.” He took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and said, “I came back from 1845 Cranford, in love with Peggy Buxton. I had never been in love before, and it was devastating. So much emotion, I never knew. Apparently… well, I guess women have been… interested in me before. But I could never see it. I mean, I’m not totally inexperienced, I’m just, I don’t know, socially awkward. Then, I met Peggy. And she was sweet, and kind, and caring. And, I think part of it was, she was the only person who really knew who I was.” He paused, swallowing, then continued.

“In Cranford, I couldn’t have her. She was William’s wife. And here, she was… dead.” He paused, tears in his eyes, and he wiped them away. “I returned to my life, as best I could. But I hadn’t been happy before, and I wasn’t happy now. Kurt was so kind…” He smirked as she gasped, and he gave her a look. “Yes, Kurt is real, too,” he said, chuckling, correctly guessing her thoughts. ”Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet him, as well.”

“This is so incredible,” she said again. She had unconsciously put her hand on his leg and was absently rubbing it, and Magnus placed his free hand over it, and she stilled, embarrassed. But she didn’t pull it away, and Magnus felt his heart swell.

He continued. “I didn’t realize what a good friend Kurt was. It was actually William who told me how caring he was. So, when I was returned back to my life, well, he was the only person I could really talk about it with, wasn’t he? So, I was depressed and he was worried about me, and he told me to get a life. He said he wanted me to return to the living. And I promised him l would. I had to at least try. So, I started playing the piano at the mall. And on my way to work, I saw a billboard advertising an exhibition at the art museum, of paintings of Cranford. That day I met you was the second time I’d been to the exhibit. I’ve seen it three times now!”

“Well, you know what they say! Third time’s the charm,” she said, looking up at him happily. “And do you like it? The exhibit?”

“He’s done a great job,” Magnus said, his eyes distant. “He really captured the spirit of the town and the people. It was a wonderful place. I was so happy there…” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, drawing himself back to the present. Back to Gretti.

He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were Peggy.” He brushed his free hand over her hair. “On the surface, you look just like her, but it didn’t take me long to realize that you aren’t much like her at all.” He shook his head, smiling an odd little smile.

Knowing how much he’d loved Peggy, Gretti felt a pain in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what she was apologizing for, and not at all sure what she was feeling.

But Magnus was smiling at her. “No, it’s a good thing!” he said gently. “Peggy would never have survived here, in this time! But you, you belong here!” She saw him visibly wrestling with himself, and then he reached out and held her by her shoulders, looking at her earnestly. “Gretti, I think… I think you belong with me!”

“I don’t know how you can say that,” she said breathlessly. “You hardly know me. I hardly know you.”

“Really?” he said looking at her with brows raised. “Tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me to go, right now, and I’ll leave and never bother you again.”

Slowly, so slowly she would have said it wasn’t happening, he began to pull her closer. “Magnus,” she whispered, and then his mouth was on hers. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, with only a hint of the passion Magnus was holding in check, but it was enough to make Gretti whimper. “No Magnus, don’t go,” she said on a sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin and nuzzling. He sighed, then said, “I want you to know, I’m not comparing you to Peggy. She is in my past, and I’ve let her go. You are my future. I love your energy and enthusiasm, your vivaciousness – they say that opposites attract, and l am definitely your opposite! Obviously, we don’t know each other well. Yet. I hope you’ll give us that chance. I hope you’ll let me get to know you, that you want to get to know me.”

She pulled away enough to look up at him. “I think I’ve pretty much indicated that I would,” she said mischievously, then she hugged him again.

“Is there anything you would like to ask me?” he said, kissing her forehead.

She squeezed him, then pulled away, looking up at him. ”Tell me about… Loki. That’s always been the hardest part of this story to swallow.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “For me, too. We were in a dark room, all stone, like a castle or something. Loki was there, looking like he does in those movies, all dark hair and pale skin, there was this really big, burly blond guy sitting against the wall; he didn’t say anything, but I assume it was Thor…” he paused, shaking his head. “Listen to me, I sound like a lunatic.”

Gretti nestled closer to his chest. She could feel his heart racing. “What did he say? Loki?” she prompted.

“That’s the nasty part,“ Magnus said bitterly. “He didn’t really say anything. He told us we were his, to do with as he pleased, rather like a little boy with action figures! I got the impression that he had noted our physical resemblance, and thought it would be fun to switch us, for whatever reason. We, William and I, had to exchange clothing, and then, we were put back into our own lives. I mean, I assume William was. I know I was.”

“The family legend says that William spoke with you,” Gretti said quietly, tangling a hand is his curls.

“Yes, we weren’t together very long, but we embraced and exchanged a bit of information about what we’d done whilst pretending to be the other. I will say, when I was standing facing him, and he was wearing my clothing, it was like looking into a full-length mirror.”

Gretti kissed his chin. ”That’s actually exactly the way William described it,” she said quietly.

They sat then quietly, just holding each other, and Gretti said, “Is that it?”

“I don’t really have anything else to add. Do you have any more questions?” Magnus asked.

“No,” she said quietly. “So what now?”

Magnus bit his lip. ”I told Kurt that you’re my girl. I wish you were…”

She pulled away and smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Magnus, I think I already am, silly!”

“Oh,” Magnus said. “Um, Gretti, um, I told you I’ve never been in love before. I mean, other than, you know…“ He whirled away from her, pacing, then came back and took her hands. “I just haven’t ever been in a real relationship, not even… I don’t really know how to do this. But, I’m a fast learner, so I hope you’ll teach me. I want to be there for you. I want to be with you.”

Her breath caught. “Magnus,” she paused and bit her lip. “Magnus, do you… do you love me?”

He rubbed his neck and gave a little one-shouldered shrug. ”I know this sounds lame, but, I think so. I mean, we really don’t know each other, and yet… Gretti, I think of you all the time. And… I want you…” He looked at her helplessly.

“Then, l guess we should start dating,” she said playfully. ”And we can start right now!”

Magnus hugged her tight for a moment, then pushed her away and stood. He looked at her, his brows raised. “I’m hungry,” he said, he said hopefully. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Gretti stood, too, and faced him, smiling saucily. “I think I’d rather have you all to myself,” she said, grinning. “Help me cook. We can make eggs and bacon, and toast.” And smiling, she led him into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally,the smut! Yup, this is the all-smut chapter, almost smut for smut’s sake. And too sweet (there’s a reason for that… ehehehe…). So, I hope you enjoy! (PS: I’m sorry about the toast. Not really sorry. I couldn’t resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is especially for valkyrie55, you know why, dear! Kisses!)
> 
> and for my usual Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin, kissimmmeme, valkyrie55

Chapter 6

Magnus looked around Gretti’s kitchen, almost not able to believe that he was here. He’d been in girls’ apartments before, but it was usually the results of some drunken encounter, and the girl was usually more than eager to show him the door once she’d gotten what she wanted from him. He was aware that he was well-endowed, and more than one girl had been simply impressed with the way he filled out his jeans. None of his encounters had ever been intimate on an emotional level, except of course, for that one time with Peggy, and he hadn’t even known who she was or how he’d gotten there, and she had thought he was the husband she adored. The whole incident had begun to take on a dream-like quality, and Magnus wasn’t even sure it should count. No, this evening, with Gretti here in her kitchen, was the most intimate encounter he’d ever had, and he didn’t realize that he’d said that out loud, until Gretti turned around, looking at him searchingly, and asked, “Really, Magnus?”  
He started, and turning towards her asked, “What?” He looked at her, coming out of his daze.

Gretti turned to him, looping her arms loosely around his neck, going up on tiptoes to press her mouth to his. “You said this was the most intimate encounter you’ve ever had. Is that true?”

Magnus put his hands on her hips and kissed her back, then he put his forehead to hers and said, “Yes. Nothing else has really even come close.”

“I’m, uh, I don’t know, honored then, I guess,” she said, reluctantly pulling away and returning to the stove. “The eggs and bacon are almost done. Will you make the toast now?”

“Of course,” Magnus said. “I do make a good piece of toast, even if I do say so myself. “

They ate sitting side by side at the counter in Gretti’s kitchen. “I can’t believe that you’re him, that you’re Magnus,” Gretti said, her elbow resting on the counter, chin in hand, gazing at Magnus in wonder. “And, um, I can’t, um… I can’t believe that you’re… mine.”

Magnus looked at her, and she felt that he was looking clear through to her soul. “Am I?” he whispered. “Am I yours, Gretti?”

Gretti nodded, cupping his face in her hand. “Yes, Magnus,” she said softly. “Yes, I think you are. Remember earlier, when you said I belong with you?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She took a deep breath. “I feel it, too. It doesn’t make any sense, but we do belong together. I don’t know how either one of us could ever pretend that it’s not true.”

Magnus felt himself irresistibly drawn to her. Slowly he brought up a hand, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck. Gretti saw his eyes close a split second before his lips touched hers. Automatically she opened her mouth, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, and he only hesitated a moment before touching his tongue to hers, and she felt it in the pit of her stomach. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and he moaned, exploring, tongues swirling. She ran her hands over his chest, then slipped them under his shirt, loving the feel of his smooth, warm skin over his toned chest. She tugged his shirt up and he froze, pulling away to look at her, uncertainty on his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked questioningly.

She gave a wordless moan of protest and pulled him back to her. “I don’t have a choice, Magnus. I need you…” And she crushed her lips to his.

Magnus drew in a breath from her open mouth, his cock twitching at her words. He moved his hands down to her ass, and, pulling her tight against him, ground his erection against her. “As long as you’re sure,” he said between kisses. “Because pretty soon it will be almost too late for me to stop.”

“I get that,” she said, dropping kisses across his cheek and down his neck. She nibbled at the skin behind his ear, and he gasped. “I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, and finished taking off his shirt.

Magnus brought one hand up, caressing her breast through her shirt, and groaned when he felt that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Gretti,” he said on a sigh, and hooking his thumbs in the hem of her tee shirt, pulled it up and over her head. He pulled away to look at her. “Gretti, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed. He bent his head and took one nipple in his mouth, and she tangled her fingers in his curls and cradled his head against her, tipping her head back and letting out a moan. He continued to suckle until she was gasping.

“Gretti, I want to taste you,” he said. “May I?”

“God, Magnus, do you have to ask?” she said, then cried out as he dropped to his knees, swiftly pulled down her sweatpants, and buried his face in her sex, wrapping his arms around her hips and squeezing her ass cheeks in his hands. She found herself clutching his curls in the fingers of both hands, holding his mouth to her, as he licked in and out of her pussy, teasingly avoiding the spot where she most wanted him. Finally, with one long lick up her slit, he connected with her clit, and she whimpered and cried out his name. She bucked her hips against his face, and he brought one hand around, and inserting two fingers, found her sweet spot. When he fastened his mouth on her clit and sucked, she came moaning around his hand against his mouth.

When he was sure she was done, he stood, and throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman carry, took her to her bedroom. “Magnus,” she squealed, swatting him on his ass, “put me down!” He set her back on her feet and grinned at her. “I wanted to carry you,” he said, smirking. ”That’s the most efficient way!”

“You’re overdressed, you big oaf,” she said, and dropped to her knees to unbuckle his belt. She looked up at him and his breath caught. She untied his shoes, and one at a time he lifted his feet so she could pull them off, then she undid his trousers and shoved them down his legs. He stepped out of them and stood before her in nothing but his boxer briefs.

Gretti eyed the bulge right in front of her face, tracing her fingertips over him through his underwear. “My god, Magnus, you’re enormous!” She slipped her fingers into his waistband and shoved his underwear down and off, releasing his massive hard cock. She took him in hand, giving him a couple of strokes before kissing the tip. She licked down his length and he let out a groan. “Gretti, don’t tease,” he said through gritted teeth. Gretti chuckled and took him in her mouth, swallowing as much of him as she could. She grasped him around the base and bobbed her head, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. He gently placed a hand on her head to encourage her, but as he got close, he stopped her, gasping, “I want to come inside you.”

He helped her stand, then led her to the bed, and she laid down and held out her arms to him, and he instantly sunk into her embrace. She grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss, then whispered in his ear, ”Fuck me, Magnus!”

His eyes met hers, and without looking away, he took himself in hand, and lining up with her entrance, eased himself in gradually, never breaking eye contact. Once he was fully sheathed, he paused to allow her to become accustomed to his sheer size. “I’ve never had a man as big as you,” she said on a sigh.

“Is it OK?” he asked, concerned, and a little embarrassed.

“God, Magnus, it’s more than OK,” she said, “it’s magnificent. Will you please fuck me now?”

Magnus began thrusting rhythmically, slow and steady, and Gretti lifted hips to meet him. “Faster, please, Magnus.” And he complied.

Magnus was breathing heavily, and his thrusts were getting more and more frantic. Gretti sensed him losing control, and she whimpered, crying out his name. When he brought a hand between them and found her clit with his thumb, she shattered around him, crying out, gripping his ass in her hands, her walls spasming and squeezing around his cock. He followed soon after, shouting her name as he came hard, emptying deep inside her.

As they came down together, Gretti nestled against him. “You’ll stay with me tonight, won’t you, Magnus?”

He smoothed the hair off her forehead, kissed her brow, and said, “I don’t think I’m capable of leaving you, Gretti. I need to be with you.”

“Good,” Grittier murmured, “because I don’t think I could be without you tonight, either.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. Hope you like it! I’m quite pleased with it, to tell you the truth! Pretty long, but it was necessary!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my usual Magnus buddies so-easy-to-love-me winchester87 rosebudwhite xdelayedgratification clojury cherrie-mandarin, kissimmmeme, valkyrie55

Chapter 7

Magnus felt a huge sense of déjà vu when he woke the next morning in Gretti’s bed. Spooning her from behind, his arm around her, hand on her breast, her blond hair tickling his nose, his morning erection nestled against her warm ass. He brought his hand up and caressed her face, and she stirred and pressed back against him.  
“Mmmm, good morning, Magnus,” she said sleepily. “whatcha got for me?” She reached behind herself and found his cock, giving it a playful squeeze. “I don’t wanna move, do you think you could just, uh, find that thing a home from this angle?”

If anything, her words made Magnus even harder. “No foreplay or anything?” he asked, groggy himself.

“Don’t need it,” she murmured, and shifted her top leg. “Well, OK,” Magnus said, and with a little maneuvering, he was able to slip inside her while they were still on their sides. He just held steady, not moving, and even dozed off for a minute or two, but the sensation became too much for both of them. Gretti started moving first, just rocking her hips against him gently, and Magnus woke more fully, and began thrusting slowly. He reached around her and began rubbing her clit, and she moaned, continuing to rock against him.

“Magnus, you feel so good,” she said lowly.

Magnus continued to move in and out of her, and he was getting close, his breath coming faster and harder, while his thrusts had gradually escalated out of control. “I can’t hold out much longer, Gretti,” he gasped. “Please, you really need to come for me.”

“Almost, Magnus,” she gasped out, and then Magnus felt her orgasm began, and she clenched her thighs around his hand, and he felt her walls squeezing against his cock. “Oh Gretti, you’re making me come,” and he stiffened against her, and came deep inside her.

They stayed like that, still spooning, and gradually, Magnus softened and slipped out of her, and she turned over, stroking his face. She looked into his eyes with a soft expression. “I love you, Magnus,” she said softly. ”If I wasn’t sure before, I am now.”

The faintest trace of a smile touched Magnus’ lips as he looked down at her tenderly. “Are you really sure?” he asked, almost teasingly. “How can you tell?”

“I love you, and you love me,” she said certainly. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Magnus’ lips twitched, and he shook his head. “You’re not wrong,” he whispered.

They had a lazy Sunday, watching TV, cooking, making love, talking. The talk eventually came around to their future. “Are you going to move in with me, or am I going to move in with you?” Gretti asked.

“Are we ready for that?” Magnus asked, surprised, brows lowered.

“Aren’t we?” Gretti asked, looking at him levelly. ”Do you want to go home?”

Magnus gave her a worried look. “No, I need — I want to be with you!” he said, distressed.

“So I repeat,” she said smugly, “are you moving in with me, or am I moving in with you?”

“Your place is bigger,” he said, smiling now.

“My place it is!” she said. “Let’s go pick up a load of your things.”

When they got there, Gretti looked around Magnus’ small apartment. “This won’t take long, will it?” she asked. “Because you don’t have much, do you?”

He shook his head, then took her in his arms, kissing her gently. “I have the world now,” he said, rubbing his chin on the top of her head. “I have you!”

Monday morning they each got ready for work, their routine meshing so well, it was almost as if they had been together for a long time. “You know how unusual this is, right?” she asked.

“Well, we know we belong together,” he said simply, and she nodded. Magnus looked at her and dragged a hand over his hair. “I wondered if you’d want to come to the station and have lunch with me today,” he said. “I thought it would be fun for both of you to meet Kurt.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Magnus, that would be amazing! I would so love to meet him! I feel like I already know him!”

So, to make it easier on her, Gretti dropped Magnus off at the station, and she took his car to her work. At lunch, she drove back to the station. Walking up to the desk, she asked for Detective Martinsson, and the desk sergeant, not bothering to look up from his paperwork, asked absently if it was about a case.

“No,” Gretti said happily, ”he’s my boyfriend, and I’m meeting him for lunch.”

The sergeant sputtered, and looked up at her, staring. ”Boyfriend? Magnus?”

“Yes,” she said, amused, but pretending to be impatient. “Can I see him now?”

“Uh, sure,” the sergeant answered, still flustered. He picked up the phone and said, ”Tell Martinsson his girl’s here.”

The reaction was the same all over the station, and Gretti felt so bad for Magnus, that when he finally arrived to meet her, she made a show out of hugging him tightly and kissing him intimately. When he pulled away he was breathing heavily. “Gretts,” he said questioningly, “what was that for…?”

“I just didn’t like the fact that they were so surprised that you have a girlfriend,” she whispered, annoyed.

“I love you, Gretti,” Magnus said, kissing her again, then quirking his lips. “Let’s go meet Kurt now. And Gretti…” he began.

“What, Magnus? What are you not telling me?” Gretti asked, brows lowered.

“I haven’t told him you’re part of the Buxton family.” Magnus confessed.

“Well, then, let’s tell him together!” she said, taking his hand. “Where to?”

Kurt looked up from his paperwork. His door was always open, so when Magnus arrived with Gretti in tow, he couldn’t help noticing them. ”You must be Gretti,” he said, rising and extending a hand to her. “I’m Kurt.”

“Yes,” she said, taking his hand, studying him. “You’re not anything like I thought you’d be.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow, and his eyes snapped to Magnus. And it was to Magnus that Kurt spoke. “Been talking about your boss to your girlfriend?” Then he turned to Gretti. “I hope he only said good things, ma’am. I think very highly of him.”

“It’s not that,“ she said, tipping her head to the side. “Sit down, Mr. Wallander. You’re owed a little explanation.”

Kurt smiled and sat. “Call me Kurt. And now I’m intrigued,” he said.

“Kurt,” Magnus began, running a hand through his curls, “Uh…”

“Oh, just say it!” Gretti said, exasperated. She turned to look at Kurt, and plopped down into one of the chairs he had facing his desk. After a few moments, Magnus took the other.

“You met William Buxton;” Gretti said, looking Kurt in the eyes, and he froze. No one knew that besides him and Magnus, but Magnus had apparently told his girlfriend. Kurt guessed being honest with your partner was a good idea. If he had, maybe his wife wouldn’t have left him. Still, he didn’t know where this young woman was going with this.

So, he chose to keep it simple. “Yes,” he said.

“Oh, there’s no really easy way to say this!” Gretti said, throwing up her hands. “You’re Kurt! I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you!”

Now Kurt was really confused. “Magnus?” he asked, looking at the younger man.

Magnus bit his lip. “Kurt, Gretti is the great-great-four greats?” he looked at Gretti, and she nodded, “four-great granddaughter of William. And Peggy,” he finished in a whisper.

“Magnus, what did you do?” Kurt asked sharply.

“Kurt, it’s not what you think!” Magnus said, holding his hands up. “I went to that exhibition at the art museum. The artist was M. M. Buxton. Magnus Martinsson Buxton! William’s son!”

Kurt looked at him blankly. “William named his son… after you?”

Magnus smirked. ”He named his second son Kurt Wallander Buxton,” he said smugly. “That’s why Gretti’s so excited to meet you!”

Kurt turned pale and put a hand to his forehead. “Oh,” he said, dazed.

Gretti took over. “William and Peggy had three sons and a daughter,” she said brightly. ”The third son was named after William himself, and the daughter was named after Peggy. And my family still uses these names.”

“Gretti apparently has brothers named Magnus and Kurt,” Magnus said. “I haven’t met them yet…”

Gretti put her hand on Magnus’ shoulder, “We’re going to a barbeque at my parents on Saturday,” she said quietly. “Both Mag and K-dub will be there.”

“K-dub?” Kurt said faintly.

“Well, he’s a dj,” Gretti said defensively. “He and I are very close!”

“Anyway, Gretti’s wanted to meet you,” Magnus said to Kurt.

“It’s so mind-boggling to me that you live now, but William wrote about you in his journal in 1845,” Gretti said, looking at him fondly. “And I feel like I already know you!”

Over the rest of that week, Gretti and Magnus packed up his apartment and moved him totally into Gretti’s. Magnus still look time out to practice the piano at the mall, and Gretti sat on the bleachers entranced, so proud and elated. One night she overheard a woman behind her talking about how talented he was, and then speculating if he had a girlfriend, or perhaps a boyfriend. Gretti smiled to herself, and when Magnus was done, and came up to her, she made sure the woman saw him pull her into his arms for a hug and a kiss. She licked along the seam of his lips, and he gasped looking around. “What was that for?” he asked, breathless.

“Just marking my territory,” she said mischievously.

Saturday dawned, and Magnus was stressed. He was meeting Gretti’s family, and he was almost… scared, really. Gretti had told them she had a boyfriend, but she hadn’t told them he was, well, the original Magnus. He couldn’t even imagine how they were going to feel, how they might react, and he was frightened. 

Gretti came up to him as he was debating over which shirt to wear, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind, rubbing her face against the smooth, bare skin of his back. “Mmmm, I love your skin,” she said, “and the way you smell. Magnus, I just really love you.”

He turned in her embrace, putting his arms around her and kissing her. “I love you, too, Gretti,” he said, nuzzling his face against her hair. “Now, tell me what to wear! I want your family to like me!”

Gretti’s father’s name was William, and he had blond hair and blue eyes, but didn’t look much like the original William, which was probably a good thing, as he had looked just like Magnus. Gretti‘s mom was named Bette. As Magnus and Gretti arrived at the house, Gretti turned to Magnus and said, “You stay in the car for a minute. I’m going to go in and kinda… prepare… everybody. It’s going to be a shock.”

So Magnus sat, waiting, as Gretti disappeared into the house. Her mom was in the kitchen, working on the meal, and her dad and both bothers were in the living room, watching a soccer match on television. Gretti murmured a greeting to the men, which was mostly ignored, then went through to the kitchen. She greeted her mom with a hug, then said, “Mom, can you come in to the living room for a moment?”

Bette followed her daughter into the living room, and Gretti turned to her dad. “Can your mute that?“ she asked, indicating the television.

Her father did so, then her whole family turned to her expectantly. “So, where’s your guy, Gretts?” Mag taunted. “He chicken out and get cold feet?”

“Um, no,“ Gretti said tentatively. “He’s waiting in the car. I just wanted to have you all, well, gathered around together, when I bring him in. It’s gonna be, um, kind of a shock, really, and you’re not going to believe it… “

“What, does he have two heads, or something?” K-dub asked facetiously.

“No!” Gretti said, exasperated. “Just, everybody just wait here, OK? I’m going to go out and get him.”

“OK,” Gretti said to Magnus. “I’ve got everybody gathered in the living room. I think they just need to see you to believe it. I didn’t really tell them anything.”

Magnus took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and as Gretti opened the door, he followed her through. They stood in the middle of the living room, Gretti holding his hand for courage. She gave him an encouraging look. “This is him,” she said proudly, squeezing his hand.

Magnus stood there, self-conscious, as four pairs of eyes moved over him. Mag was the first to speak. “But, Gretts,“ he said, looking Magnus up and down, “he looks just like those portraits of…”

And K-dub was the first to get it. “Oh my god, you’re him, aren’t you?” K-dub said, incredulous. “Guys, Gretts is dating Magnus!”

The rest of the afternoon was full of questions for Magnus, as Gretti’s family asked him repeatedly, all about William and Peggy, and Cranford, and eventually, one of the brothers realized that Magnus must know Kurt, and then they all wanted to meet him, and Magnus promised that he’d try to arrange it.

On the way home, Gretti asked if they could go to the mall, and as it wasn’t that late, Magnus agreed. He followed her around as she did a little shopping, and then eventually, they ended up at the piano. Magnus looked at her questioningly, as she got some papers out of her bag and went over to the piano. She uncovered the keyboard, then sat down on the bench, and, placing the papers, which Magnus now saw was some sheet music, on the holder, she looked at Magnus and patted the bench beside her.

Magnus sat, then looked at the music she’d put out. He whipped his head around and looked at her. ”This was at Cranford,“ he said, reaching out and touching the sheets, at something that had been written there. “These are my notes; I wrote this…” The music was Schubert’s Grand Duo sonata in C for 4 hands, which he had played with Peggy.

“It’s a photocopy,” Gretti said gently. ”The original is still at the house, in Cranford. Will you play it with me, Magnus?”

He gave her one of his little half-smiles. “You play?“ He sounded delighted. “Gretti, you never said!”

She nodded. “Not as well as you. Hence, I’ve got Secondo.”

“Peggy played Secondo,” he said brightly, and sounded so happy, that Gretti knew that he was truly over Peggy. Magnus put his hands on the keyboard, smiled at her, and said, “Let’s play!”

***

Epilogue

Loki heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair. It had been a long time in the making, but he had finally got these two people together at the right place and at the right time. It was true that they were fated to be together; it was their destiny. All he had done was speed it up by making sure they met when he wanted them to. He had felt so guilty at Magnus’ unhappiness, a feeling so totally foreign to him, and supremely upsetting, that he knew he had to do what he could to “fix” the man. He felt the need to manipulate the situation. After all, the man, even though he was only a Midgardian, was family, and Loki wanted to be known as a god who took care of his family!

As was his habit, Thor knocked on the door and barged right in. Taking a look at the scrying vessel, he asked, “Isn’t that the same Midgardian you were meddling with the last time you did this?”

“One of them,” Loki said, with much satisfaction. “I have successfully introduced him to his one true love, and now he is destined for a long and happy life, with a wife and four children and a family dog that resembles him! My work here is done!” And waving his hand, the vapors vanished like smoke.

“Loki, one would think you cared!” Thor laughed loudly.

Loki made an expression of distaste. “Yes, so let’s this just be our little secret, brother,” said Loki. “Now, let’s go get some lunch.”

And slinging their arms around each other, the two brothers set off for the kitchens.


End file.
